


Baritone Bruteness

by DragonheadSkilax



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure Mode, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Survival, Triumphant Wolfgang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonheadSkilax/pseuds/DragonheadSkilax
Summary: In an action to recover his place as King of shadows, Maxwell must first face a match with his opponent, the formidable strongman who no longer fears the dark. ჯ One-shot.
Kudos: 11





	Baritone Bruteness

**Author's Note:**

> Writing commission for the artist Niko Davis.

In the plains of twilight it would be considered an enveloping welcome to the former King of this world. Those are fear it would be under its immense power like the floorboards of a great hall. In a traditional Monarchy it would be only conventional to replace the worn, threadbare remains of a former leader. Renew the darkness of the night.

This replacement would not be taken lightly to Maxwell Carter. Upon being reintroduced to the outside world, already there were signs of a new order. Sunlight is kept around only in a fraction of the day, night became a majority of time. The grisly monsters of the land were even more sensitive to brightness. A sweep of a torch was enough to send a bloodthirsty hound flinching away like a flighty crow. From Maxwell’s memory, this seemed unlikely but unsurprising from how this change would occur. The one man who had freed him from the Throne’s grasp is the origin of transitioned landscape.

In life that man was known as the robust, vigorous, and strongman. Given how the power of the Throne can cause, and from Maxwell’s observations of light-sensitive entities. It must mean that now the strongman is now the ringleader, autocrat, and oppressor of light. In order to take back what once was his, Maxwell has spent his days sharpening his survival abilities. It must be admitted that he does not have his ways in strength, but he kept his confidence high with his cunning skills. 

During each episode after entering a gate of trials. Maxwell is always greeted with a hounding man. His loud deep voice trembled through Maxwell’s chest cavity. The odor of musty nightmare fuel was at its strongest during his presence. He was barely visible in the shadows but from details that could be observed, it almost seemed impossible to take down such an abominably sized man. Almost.

It would’ve seemed like a miracle to reach the final world, the last area of chapter. Of course nothing can slip through Maxwell’s wit. He’s much too familiar with what this world can offer. Within rugous hands a dark cutlass undulated like a wavy shard of obsidian, with its black undertones that cut through light. Equally dressed with the same material of nightmarish armor that gave the comfort of protection and duskiness. Taking steps into the great hallway, the echoing meant that this must be the end. Maxwell took one hand to brush back his thinning hair and walked beside the flaming posts that lit seemingly aware of his next steps. Until there was a point that was a dead-end. 

This was a curious turn but with a flick of a torch light Maxwell proceeded deeper. Crackling of embers and the clacking of dress shoe heels on cracked marble flooring were the only sounds to be heard. Then he noticed another pair of steps having an out of sync walk with his. Maxwell immediately stopped where he stood to try to hear what direction it came from. The direction of the last step he heard was a distance away from behind. 

Maxwell exclaimed into the shadows, “Come out where I can see you, Wolfgang!” He waited for an answer before a large hand meets his vision.

“Hello, frail man!”, the strongman held a tight grip onto the arm of Maxwell’s to pull it behind his head. The surprise caused him fumble with his torch as it almost singed his suit, but even worse it had fallen to the ground beneath his feet. 

“Let go of me this instance, you _brute_!”, Maxwell twisted around to free himself but Wolfgang’s strength surpassed his.

  
  
His sheer body size eclipsed Maxwell from the dying light of the torch. Though remembering the weapon in his other hand he attempts to back slash his opposer. There came a grunt from behind him but it wasn’t enough to back him away. It would almost seem reaching this point was all for nothing if it were to end this quickly, but there was a growing light from behind. 

With an outcry Wolfgang loosened his grip on Maxwell’s arm which was enough for his thin hand to slip out from. The fallen torch had seemed to ignite a bed of evil flowers to set aflame, causing a harmful glow to radiate away the strongman back. Seeing this reaction, it clicked into Maxwell’s mind that the former phobia ridden man now thrived in the darkness, yet still lingered apparent weaknesses.  
  


Standing up, Maxwell gripped his sword and pointed out, “I am here to take back what’s rightfully mine!”

A hearty chuckle returned, “_Haa ha ha_, Wolfgang is much stronger now. Frail man is no match for me!” He reached out with a roar and charged back to Maxwell just who narrowly dodged back from the attack.  
  
He reached down onto the ground to pick back up the discarded torch. Standing up, he kept it behind his back, “Keep shambling in the dark. It only proves how cowardly you are to face me!” 

Wolfgang could feel his heart race as his mind couldn’t keep his eyes off from the fire behind his rival. Sweat started to drip down his head, tickling his shadowy hair. He planned his next move. He put up his dukes close to his face and paced his way towards Maxwell. 

“Can frail man dodge this!”, with a rush of an arm he swung at him, but at the same time of the action Maxwell put up his other arm with the torch to block himself. Wolfgang’s fist punched through the blazing twisted tow of the torch. This made him roar out a cry as he darted back into the dark holding his hand. He feared and hated the light, and to have made contact with the burning shine enraged him. Twisting back around he growled at Maxwell. The ruined torch was now nothing but a wooden stick with dying red embers on the end. 

Wolfgang narrowed his eyes and exclaimed, “No more funny tricks!”

Despite the success of the round, Maxwell still had much to accomplish to fight back and win this match. He fumbled through his pockets for any more materials to light. His heart sunk to find that he was void of such items left to fend off the beastly man. The last of the evil flowers that had ignited earlier was scorched to its final stems. 

Somewhere in the dark, Wolfgang prepared his next move and had climbed up on a column of rocks. He grinned wide which made his mustache shift up into a curl. 

“_Say good night, frail man!_”

Wolfgang jumped down elbow first to body slam the man. The impact extinguished the last flames of light with a woosh, enveloping Maxwell’s vision with pure blackness. All he felt next was an arm putting him into a choke hold. The deep burly voice rumbled into his ears.

“One!”

He helplessly tried to claw off the forearm from his neck.

“Two!”

His back cracked underneath the weight of muscle mass which seemed to penetrate the integrity of his armor.

“Three!”

Maxwell gasped for air as he stood back up from the ground, coughing and holding onto his sore throat. Metal and wood crashed down in a close as the gate collapses into a close. Regaining his senses, his was back into the main world. A few of his items were scattered around him as if they were tossed out from the door gate. One of these included the snuffed out remains of a torch. Ashy, worn-out remains belonging to an equally threadbare former king.


End file.
